


Can't Trust Just Anyone

by withcoffeespoons



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withcoffeespoons/pseuds/withcoffeespoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entry #76 tag.</p><p>Tim and his loneliness in a hotel room absent of Jay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'd Follow You In

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Iscariot by Walk the Moon.

The hotel room feels huge without Jay and his computer. It’s quiet enough that Tim can hear the couple moaning two rooms over, the footsteps of whoever is staying a floor up, pacing back and forth on creaky floors.

In the middle of the night, it’s the sound of his own heartbeat flooding his ears, his breathing hissing out one after another. The rattle of his pills in the bottle in his hand as he rolls out one more before falling half asleep for an hour or so before waking up again.

He plays a stupidly addictive game on his phone and doesn’t stare at the tiny numbers in the corner of the screen, doesn’t glance at the red LED beside him, doesn’t look out the window when the sky starts to lighten.

He wants so badly to go home, feeling Jay’s shadow in every dusty corner of the room, on the second bed, on the empty desk, on the fucking sink where he forgot to take his dental floss when he ran out. Jay is everywhere in that room, and he can’t stand it, but the fear of what he will find back at his house keeps him rooted.

He texts Jay again, the same words over and over, one apology after the next. He saw the entry, can imagine the conclusions Jay has drawn—especially in his current state.

Jay has only ever wanted to help, he confessed to Tim one night, a couple of stolen beers between them both. He’d wondered that night if he really only did make things worse. Tim had grabbed the can from his hand, cut him off, and reminded Jay that he was helping. That he had helped him.

Now Tim wonders the same thing, if good intentions did only lead one place.

He shoots off another text and rolls over, tucking the phone under the pillow. He refuses to fall asleep with it in his hand like some pathetic fifteen year old girl, but it makes him feel better to have it close.

He drifts off as the sun rises, light refusing to chase the shadows away, only revealing more.


	2. I Never Imagined You Dead

Tim wakes up to the text notification on his phone in a dark room. It’s half past stupid o’clock, and he can’t get his fingers to work, exhaustion in his extremities, even as his brain shrills at him because the fact of the matter is he had to ditch his phone a few weeks back, a couple of late payments too many on his contract, and there’s only one person who has his new number.

He’s not sure the characters on the screen are even attempted words, mostly nonsense. He sends back, “Jay?” terrified that the answer will be no.

Tim gathers, as they struggle through a back and forth of mostly incoherent texts, that Jay is alone, that he somehow hurt himself, that he isn’t entirely aware of his surroundings.

"wanna give up already"

It’s the most coherent of any of his texts, and the words freeze Tim’s blood. He remembers that feeling; he knows knows it intimately. He’s been there and deeper, and he’s acted upon it, and he doesn’t even hesitate before asking, “where are you??”

He avoids looking down at the screen as he nervously watches the clock tick away the seconds in an unwavering hollow red blink. He tries to count to 100, and gets to 75 before he gives in and sends off an “are you ok?” It’s only another 47 before “jay why are you hurt??” and only 23 before “jay where are you let me help”

When he receives no response, his fingers twitch for a cigarette, every nerve jumpy, his thoughts nervous and paranoid (is it paranoia really?) and terrified in a way he can’t describe, can’t explain in a way that makes sense. Terrified that Jay’s given up on him and ditched his number, that Jay’s given up on his search for answers and carved out a new life away from all this, that Jay’s given up on…everything.

He stands outside and chain-smokes his way through half a pack before the sun comes up. He eventually passes out, sitting on the floor, his back against the bedframe, phone still in hand, waiting for a text that might never come. He only knows he passes out because the vibration wakes him, an hour or five later, a clear, simple “I’m fine.”

Tim throws the phone across the room and breathes heavily into the pillow, trying not to think about what he’s feeling, not to put a name on it when there’s something new and raw churning in there, bringing tears to his eyes.


End file.
